


Save Me

by SpaciousSpace



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Nightmares, Some Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaciousSpace/pseuds/SpaciousSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Alfred finds out about Ivan's drinking problem, he decides to step in to keep his friend from drinking himself to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Well... Let's see. You should write about Ivan going through alcohol withdrawals. Or a kink meme."  
> -DewPaw
> 
> So, here you are. xD

Ivan's hand slid down the only bottle with vodka still in it. The glass was cold below where his hand had been when he’d fallen asleep. Trying to ignore the headache that seemed to take a mallet and smack him upside the head every half second, he sat up and looked around his empty kitchen. His back ached in protest of the motion, causing Ivan to wince.  
The kitchen was littered with empty bottles of Smirnoff and Absolut, and the entire apartment smelled faintly of the beverage. Ivan stood, putting his hand on the table to steady himself before running his hands over his face; normally he didn’t get hangovers, but they’d been coming more and more often with his increased drinking.  
Ivan took the ibuprofen from the cupboard above the sink and took three. He frowned and sighed softly, deciding to just go and try to sleep it off. It was all he could do, really. So, he made his way down the hall, thankful all of his curtains were shut to block the harsh rays of light that typically were welcomed in his home. He reached his room and made his way to his bed, where he cautiously set himself down, whereas he typically would flop backwards into the soft down comforter.  
He winced as there was a loud, ornery knock at the door, only making his headache so much worse. He stood slowly, as not to agitate his throbbing head more, and wobbled back down the hallway. As he reached the kitchen the person outside his door knocked again, louder this time. Frustrated, Ivan fiercely tugged the door open, eyes squinting in fear of a loud hello.  
Alfred, however, wasn’t about to say anything. As he took Ivan's appearance in, he began to regret coming over to show him a new videogame he’d gotten. When he finally spoke, his voice was just a whisper. “You look like shit.” He frowned and walked past a grimacing Ivan.  
“Gee, thanks a fucking lot.” Ivan closed the door and rubbed his temple, voice soft like Alfred's, albeit not a whisper, more of a very quiet voice. Alfred frowned even more, pushing some vodka bottles to the side to set the game case on the table.   
“Dude, how much did you drink last night?” Alfred's voice remained a whisper. “There’s like, thirty bottles laying around here! Your BAC must have been way the fuck up there, dude.” He’d just finished reading the driving manual to get his license—he couldn’t help but make that remark.  
“Not all of these are from last night dumbass. I probably drank three last night. The rest have just accumulated.” He shrugged and looked away. His alcohol tolerance was insanely high, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t get drunk.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ivan. I’m shocked your liver’s still fucking working.” Alfred leaned against the table, crossing his arms like a concerned parent. “Dude, you gotta stop laying it on so thick. I don’t care if you’re Russian, you need to tone it down a bit.” Alfred's voice had increased from the whisper to a level similar to Ivan's voice.  
Ivan didn’t say anything and settled instead on cleaning up all the bottles. He took a trash bag and went around slowly, picking them up and setting them in the bag gently so not to make a racket. His headache was ebbing away, but he didn’t want it coming back.  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alfred exhaled softly. “Dude, I don’t care what you say, I’m going to make you stop drinking every damn night.” He shook his head and looked up to watch an indifferent Ivan still picking up bottle upon bottle. He filled up a whole bag and tied it up, setting it by the door so that he’d remember to take it out to the dumpster later. He threw the remaining bottles in the garbage can under the sink, wincing a bit at the loud clanging they made.  
“Quite frankly, Alfred, I’d like to see you try.” His tone was bitter and cold. Alfred's brows knit together in determination at the challenge. “I’ll be back in an hour.” And with that, he walked out of the apartment, purposely slamming the door behind him to annoy Ivan. He planned on going home, packing clothes for a week, and coming back. He was going to make sure that Ivan stopped this ridiculousness.  
Ivan was left alone the in the blissful silence of his empty home. He sighed and walked to his bathroom, deciding that a hot shower might help him start feeling better. Besides, he smelled strongly of vodka; not that he didn’t like the smell of it, but it would be best to just get rid of it so Alfred wouldn’t complain and nag on him about the steps to stopping and this and that.  
He twisted the handle to start the water, watching the liquid waterfall from the shower head to the floor blankly. He stuck his hand in the water, making sure it was warm enough before stripping down and stepping in. Something didn’t feel right, however. He looked down to see his feet still donned socks, the white things of fabric soaked. He sighed and took them off, hanging them on the side of the shower to hopefully dry.  
He scrubbed his hair and body to rid himself of the alcohol’s stench, taking his time before getting out and walking to his room, a towel wrapped around his hips. He grabbed out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing those on over a pair of navy blue boxers. He did feel a bit better after that, not to mention his headache had finally gone away.   
He tossed the clothes he’d worn the day before in the laundry hamper in the far corner of the room, which also had an empty Smirnoff bottle in it. He sighed; he had bottles all over his apartment. He went to start picking those up too, but was stopped by the sound of his front door opening. He returned to the kitchen to see Alfred with a duffel bag and a backpack slung over his shoulder, along with two coffees in his hands. He handed one to Ivan.  
“Start drinking that stuff instead. Way better for you than what you’ve been drinking.” Alfred took a sip of his own before setting it down on the table next to the videogame. “Alright, I’ve got stuff for a whole week. I’m staying here to monitor your drinking.”   
Ivan groaned in protest. “That’s fucking ridiculous, Alfred. Why does this even matter to you? It’s just a drink here and there.” That was an understatement. A big understatement. Alfred rolled his eyes, obviously a little frustrated with Ivan.  
“You’re just fucking with me, right?” Alfred set down his bags and crossed his arms. “Ivan, you’re one of my best friends. At the rate you’re drinking, you’re going to be dead in a month. See, here’s the thing.” He tossed a tone in that would normally be present when a teacher was speaking to a young child. It dripped over his words, almost to the point where it would be offensive to Ivan. “When you’re friends with someone, you don’t think, ‘oh! They’re dying! Better just leave them to it!’ Fuck no! You say, ‘bitch, get your fucking act together and your head out of the clouds.’ And you help them anyway you can.”   
Ivan stared at Alfred for a while, unsure how to respond. Finally, after a few minutes, he just nodded and looked down at the ground. “Yeah, alright.”  
Alfred smiled ever so slightly at this little victory over Ivan. He wasn’t about to admit that he liked Ivan in a way that probably wasn’t socially acceptable to most strong republicans. In fact, he was fairly sure he was going to keep that a secret, and that secret would be buried with him, still stuck in his mouth, unable to expel it to Ivan's ears.  
“Kay. Well, start with your coffee, and we’ll just see how it goes, alright? What time do you usually start drinking in the day?” He figured Ivan might get some withdrawals around the time he started drinking.  
Ivan looked at the clock which read 2:00. He sighed softly. “Oh, about four hours.” He spoke the words as though they were no big deal. Alfred wasn’t too happy with this, however.  
“So you’re telling me you get laid out drunk, pass out, wake up with a hangover, and start drinking five hours later?” Ivan nodded and Alfred did something similar to a facepalm. “Okay. What the actual fuck.” He shook his head and muttered to himself. “Well, in the meantime, I wanted to show you this game. It’ll pass the time until you typically start drinking.”  
With that, the two walked into the small living room area where Ivan had his television and gaming consoles. Alfred tapped the circle on the Xbox and then the eject button. He took Battlefield 3 out and put in his game, going back to the kitchen to grab his headset from his duffle, plugging it in per usual and handing Ivan his headset. The two turned on their controllers and watched the intro before delving into the new game.  
-ooo-  
“Just one drink.” Ivan was standing in the kitchen attempting to negotiate with Alfred, who was standing in front of his liquor cabinet. Alfred was standing strong to what he’d said earlier. “No. You’re not drinking tonight.” Though it would be harder for Ivan that way, he figured he’d just stop him dead in his tracks. He was prepared to deal with any withdrawal side effects that arose from the sudden lack of alcohol intake.  
“Please, Alfred. Pretty please. You can have some too!” Ivan was starting to sound ridiculous with his begging. “Just a shot. One fucking shot. Please?” Alfred shook his head and Ivan groaned, feeling a headache coming on. His hands had already began to shake, and were clammy. “Come on!” When he was denied once more, he trudged off to the living room and flopped over on the couch, whining to himself about how stupid this whole thing was.  
Alfred took a padlock from his backpack and found some wire. He did some intricate tying and such to get it to stay closed before putting the padlock on it. He walked into the living room and stood in the doorway, looking at Ivan who had his face buried in a pillow. He did feel kind of bad for him, but it was for his own good. “Ivan, let’s play some more until it’s time to sleep.” He figured that if it was seven now, they could sleep in two or three hours.  
Ivan muttered his response into the tan pillow, making it hard for Alfred to hear. Rolling his eyes, Alfred just tossed Ivan's controller to him, the shiny black plastic landing right on his ass. There was a yelp of surprise, then Ivan slowly sat up. He took the controller in his hands and sighed. He figured he could probably play for a bit longer.  
The two began to play again, both of them staring intently at the screen. They played in silence, both getting headshots frequently. After a while, however, Ivan began to feel a bit sick to his stomach. He said nothing, knowing it was just a withdrawal. They continued playing for a few minutes, then Ivan hurriedly pulled his headset off and tossed his controller away, making a dash for the bathroom.   
He lost the contents of his stomach, which had only been a granola bar and a lot of coffee. His hands shook worse than before from the sudden exertion. He stood and flushed the bile, wetting his hands and splashing water on his face. He looked pretty exhausted, not to mention felt the same way.   
Ivan dried his face and returned to the living room where Alfred sat, the game paused, waiting for him to come back. “You alright?” Ivan frowned, suddenly feeling agitated.   
“What do you think? You take me off my normal fucking routine, and I throw up and feel like shit and you ask me if I’m alright? What the fuck kind of question is that? It’s a bullshit question!” He plopped back down on the couch, now getting mad at himself for getting irritated with Alfred. “I’m fucking dandy.” The sarcasm that was stapled to his words slapped Alfred across the face.   
“You know what? I’m doing this to keep your from dying. Fucking dying. If you’re just going to be mad at me for trying to prevent you from leaving this fucking world, I’ll just fucking leave.” Alfred huffed and crossed his arms, staring at Ivan.  
“Look, I’m sorry, but this fucking sucks! You try this! It sucks fucking faucets.” Ivan rubbed his face, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t mean to snap at you like that, it’s just that I feel like shit. Kay? Sorry.”   
Alfred softened slightly at that, feeling a bit better. “It’s fine man. Just…we should go to bed. It’s a little late and with you not feeling well, sleep will be the best thing for you.” Ivan nodded in response.  
“Sure. You’re welcome to anyplace but my bed.” And with that, Ivan trudged off to his room. He immediately flopped down onto his bed, climbing between the covers and falling asleep within a few minutes.  
He slept well enough for the first little bit. Soon, though, his normal dream became something of a nightmare. He watched as Alfred was brutally murdered, a cut made in his stomach to pull out his entrails Alfred's eyes locking on the guts as they were pulled out and stacked next to his body, his screams horrific. The person then took a knife to Alfred's left eye, popping the eye and pulling it out to dangle. Finally, they made one more incision and stabbed both of Alfred's lungs, making his gasps into struggling gasps and pants.   
The person thrust their hand into Alfred's chest cavity and grabbed ahold of his still beating heart. Alfred's eyes locked with Ivan's, Ivan's breath hitching. Something strange occurred to him; he had the urge to yell out to Alfred and tell him how much he loved him. Before he could, though, the person grabbed Alfred's heart tightly and pulled up, ripping the valves apart and completely removing his most important organ. Alfred's eyes slowly rolled back up into his head and Ivan began to scream.  
That’s when he woke up, sweating morbidly and panting as though he’d run a marathon. There was a knock at his door and he attempted to quickly regain his composure. “C-come in.” Alfred opened the door and walked in cautiously.   
“You were screaming. A-are you alright?” Ivan blinked back tears. Just seeing Alfred still alive made his heart jump multiple beats. The nightmare had been so vivid he had almost been sure it was real.  
“I’m fine. Just a nightmare is all. Just, uh, go back to bed.” His voice was shaky and he couldn’t hide it. Alfred's features were contorted with worry. “Are you sure? Can I get you anything?” Ivan shook his head in response, laying back down. “Thanks though.” Alfred left to go back to the couch, and Ivan let the tears flow freely from his eyes.   
The nightmare played over and over in his mind, almost as though it were a movie with one of its chapters on repeat. He let himself cry until he had no more tears left, and once he was lacking tears, he fell asleep, still hiccupping slightly, and stayed asleep for the rest of the night, his sleep dreamless. He was thankful for that—he wasn’t sure if he could really take another dream that evening, good or bad. Even if it started out as a good dream, the previous dream would just sink its teeth into the new, nice dream, and inject its horror into it, slowly but surely.  
However, when he came to the next morning to the smell of coffee, he felt something of a satisfaction: he’d survived day one of no alcohol, and he felt something like pride swell in his chest. He’d take is slow, and he’d make it.  
One step at a time.


	2. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is short.

Ivan's head was still spinning from the night before. His hands still shook, despite the glorious sleep he’d finally received after the morbid nightmare he’d experienced about Alfred. Slowly, despite his pounding headache, Ivan stood up. He walked slowly towards the kitchen where the delightful coffee smell was wafting from. He entered the warm room, the sunlight that streamed through the window hurt his head even more.  
“Morning Ivan.” Alfred didn’t turn from the window as he spoke to his friend. “Are you alright? You didn’t look too good last night.” He ran a hand through his warm, silky hair.   
“Yeah, I guess. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much.” Ivan's voice trailed off slightly as his sentence came to an end. “Ah, I’m really sorry. I just…this terrible nightmare.” He shook his head and cut himself off, hoping to avoid giving any explanations.  
“I know.” Alfred's voice was quiet as he finally turned around, his lower back resting against the counter. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked a bit pale, obviously from lack of sleep. “You kept muttering in your sleep. Did you, um, really mean it? What you said about me?”  
Ivan paled. Had he said something about wanting to tell Alfred he liked him? Or had it been just something about how Alfred had his innards ripped out brutally, and slowly, held in his murderer’s hand as he looked at it, helpless. “What did I say?”  
“A-ah, never mind.” He was sure he’d heard something about Ivan liking him, but he wasn’t about to say that if it wasn’t true. There was definitely a possibility that he had just heard something. His pale skin became tinted a light pink. He looked down. “How bad are you feeling? Do you want some Excedrin?” Alfred rubbed at his already angry-red eyes.  
“I can handle it for right now. Just a little dizzy and shaky is all. I’ll be alright.” Ivan really did feel bad for keeping Alfred awake all night. “Alfred, I’m really sorry for keeping you awake.” He frowned and leaned against the counter, mimicking Alfred.   
“No, it’s fine really. I was prepared to deal with it, I’m doing this because I want to. It’s okay.” Alfred forced a lethargic smile onto his lips. “You know—“ His sentence was interrupted by the beeping of the coffee maker. He quickly turned and poured the liquid into the red speckled mug he’d found in the cupboard, slamming the whole blaring hot cup of coffee in a few seconds.  
“A-Alfred! Be careful, you’ll burn your mouth and throat…” Ivan trailed off as Alfred filled up another cup and slammed it again. “Alfred…” He watched as Alfred shuddered at the burns that were now occupying his mouth, tongue, and esophagus. “Alfred…” He repeated his friend’s name, feeling horrible. He was the cause of this. It was all his fault. He was making his friend suffer.   
“Ivan, stop. It’s okay, really. It’ll be okay. It’s just…I promise it’ll get better. The first night is always going to be rough, and look at us. We’re alright. We’re alive, and you haven’t drank anything in over twenty four hours. And, you’re up at seven. This is insane progress in just one day is fantastic. Just because things are bad now doesn’t mean it won’t get better. And honestly, this is better than I had anticipated. I thought you would’ve found a way into the cupboard and drank yourself silly. But, either you didn’t think of it, in which case, what I just said was a terrible thing to say, or you had enough willpower to just stay in bed. If it’s the latter of the two, that’s wonderful.” Alfred was smiling a genuine smile now, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  
Ivan didn't know what to say in response to that. He just hadn't thought about breaking into the cabinet, really. He was more focused on how terrible his head felt, and how dizzy he was, and then the nightmare…   
The two just stood in the kitchen and looked at the floor. It was some progress indeed, and they weren’t about to put it to a halt. Alfred got another mug down from the cabinet and poured some coffee into it, handing it to Ivan. They both drank their hot beverage slowly this time, taking the time to be cautious with their avoidance of burns. After a moment, though, Alfred sat down his cup and walked over to Ivan.  
“I’m really proud of you, Ivan.” He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Ivan's middle, hugging him gently. Ivan didn’t think much of it, but hugged him back. He was close to the guy he liked, and that was all that mattered in that moment. They pulled back after a moment, Alfred blushing as he picked his coffee back up.  
“Thanks.” Ivan smiled a bit and stretched, the coffee curbing the craving his stomach had to be filled. “And, thanks for helping me.” Ivan wasn’t stupid; he knew that he easily could drink himself to death if he had continued his drinking habits for too much longer. “I… I really appreciate it.”  
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "there's no such thing as a #fleshphase, only an #lifephase"  
> DewPaw


	3. I'll get a Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is one of the very last chapters of Save Me. I think I’m going to try to squeeze a lot of stuff into three more chapters, despite the fact that some of you (surprisingly) like this series. Sorry. >.

Well, that was a good conversation. Ivan smiled at Alfred before walking evenly out of the kitchen, going into the small living room type area that they had spent so much time playing video games in. He sat on the couch and looked at his hands for a minute.  
Now that he really gave it some thought, he could break into the cabinet when Alfred wasn’t paying attention to him. Like, in the middle of the night. He could easily set an alarm on his phone for one in the morning. All he’d have to do is make sure he had his phone on vibrate, and that he was quiet. He could sneak everything back to his room and hopefully, drink as much as he wanted; he could drink until his hands stopped shaking, and his head stopped hurting constantly.  
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees. He went to tools, then alarm. He made sure the alarm was a vibrate alarm, not a melody, and then stuck the phone back in his pocket. One AM it is, then.  
Alfred strolled into the room, tapping the button on the Xbox with a sock-clad toe, picking up one controller and tossing it at Ivan. “Will you play for me? I think I might try to take a nap, but it might be fun to watch some Halo while I drift off.” Alfred gave him a weary grin, going over to lay down in the recliner.  
Ivan flicked the control stick until it got to his profile, hitting the A button once, then again as it opened to the main dashboard. The game started up, showing logos in the beginning per usual. He sat back against the couch, pulling his legs up to sit cross legged. He hunched forward, knees on elbows again. He selected his storage unit, and began playing where he left off.  
“Ooh, I hate this part! I thought I had to kill everything, so I tried to kill the drone thing too, and fuck, it was so damn hard!” Alfred's voice was weak, and quite frankly, rather dead sounding.  
Ivan gave him a small smile, then, “Yeah, it turns out you just have to kill one of them to get to the other place, and then you have to fight a lot of them.” The graphics of the open field were rather well done, the enemies ran towards his warthog and were run over.  
“Really? I ended up killing half of them.” Alfred had his eyes closed, expression already one of rest. “But oh well. It was time well spent.” He yawned and stretched a bit, grabbing a blanket from the floor next to the chair he was reclined in. He tossed it over himself, and was asleep within a few seconds, his eyelashes lying over the horribly dark circles under his eyes.  
There was a low grumble from outside, and the soft pattering sound of rain on the roof began to fill the room. It was still early in the day, but the sky was darker than it normally would have been on any given day at this time. Ivan turned the television down some, letting the relaxing sound fill the room. He shut the console down, despite the fact he’d only just started playing and laid down on the couch, closing his eyes and letting the sound of rain permeate his ears. He rather liked the noise, and soon fell asleep.

-ooo-

The rain was still pouring when Ivan woke up. Alfred was still fast asleep in the chair, legs over one arm rest, head lying on the other. Ivan still felt tired, and his arm ached from being laid on. It began to tingle as he pulled it out from under him, the blood flow returning to normal. He looked at the clock. It was only three, but it meant he’d elapsed a lot of time. He was hours closer to getting a drink.  
The relaxing noise of the water droplets hitting the roof was still present in the room, and it made Ivan want to go back to sleep even more. The pillow was warm and welcoming, so Ivan decided to head back to sleep. The room had gotten rather cold, so before he returned to being dead to the world, he stood and walked quickly to his room and grabbed two blankets. He returned to the living room and dropped one on the couch where he’d been sleeping, not really bothering with it at the moment.  
He walked to Alfred's side, adjusting his current blanket so that it also covered his feet. Alfred's skin had returned to a more fleshy tone, not as pale, with the bags under his eyes slowly receding from where they’d came. Smiling softly, he tossed the second blanket over the blond, feeling a small attraction to him. Alfred shifted around a bit, snuggling into the new blanket and smiling ever so slightly in his sleep. It was all rather adorable, Ivan had to admit, and he was sure he’d dream about it later.  
After a moment of watching Alfred sleep, Ivan returned to the couch and sat down, unfurling the blanket as he fell to one side, his head hitting the pillow as he pulled it over himself. He closed his eyes and returned to sleep.

-ooo-

It was too dark to see anything, though he could hear someone crying. He wasn’t in his apartment laying on the couch anymore, but rather sitting on a cold hard ground. For some reason, he felt like he was in a video for that Taylor Swift song about being on the cold hard ground. Nonetheless, he was still there, and there wasn’t anything he could do but stand up. Looking around desperately for some sort of light, he spotted a door handle. He walked cautiously towards it, afraid he would trip on something.  
He let his fingers wrap around the doorknob, and as soon as his palm touched the knob the room burst with a blinding white light, his eyes unable to adjust properly. He stumbled backwards, falling on the ground. He was still for a moment, his eyes closed, until he felt a soft hand on his cheek. He let his eyes open, taking in the dimmed lights that were similar to the light that was emitted by candles. Alfred sat next to him, his hands still gently resting on Ivan's cheek. “Wake up, Ivan. Please? For me?”

-ooo-

“Ivan! Oh, thank god, you’re awake. You were tossing and turning and it was just kinda scary. Everything okay?” Alfred was kneeling by the couch, his hands folded in his lap. Ivan blushed, eyes widening.  
“I-I’m sorry! Everything is just fine. I just…had a bad dream, is all.” He smiled a bit though the lie he had spat out. “Sorry for waking you.”  
“No! It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” There was a bit of an awkward pause in which they stared at each other, Alfred taking in Ivan's lovely lavender irises with his blue ones. Then, “Ah, it’s nearly seven. We slept pretty much all day.” Alfred rubbed his neck as he spoke, looking away. “Thank you for the extra blanket, by the way. The room got pretty cold.” Ivan nodded and there was another silence, only the sound of rain still beating against the roof could be heard.  
“Well, we might as well just go back to bed. We’re all tired, I’m sure.” If Ivan played his cards right, he could actually get a drink earlier than anticipated. That would probably be better; it would let him get the alcohol out of his system.  
“Yeah, sure.” Alfred went to go lay back in the recliner when Ivan stopped him. “Ah, did you want to sleep in my bed for tonight? We can switch off every other day, you know? It might be better on your back that way.”  
Alfred grinned at him. His face looked much more normal now that he’d received some much needed sleep. “Sure! Thank you very much, it’s so nice of you.” He patted Ivan's head, then walked off to Ivan's bedroom, flopping down and going back to sleep. Once Ivan was sure Alfred was completely asleep, he snuck silently into the kitchen, got the wire cutters from the drawer, and went to work on getting his drink.


End file.
